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THE 



OF 

WILLIAM LOYE, P. C. 



PAISLEY: FEINTED BY G. CALDWELL, 2 NEW ST. 

1857. 















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THE AXITOBIOGEAPHT 


WILLIAM 


O* 

LOVE, 


P. C. 


A NATIVE OF PAISLEY. 


BETTER KNOWN AS THE 



THE GREATEST TRAVELLER ALIVE! 


A 


/3 


HAYING ALREADY WALKED MORE THAN 


= SIX TIMES ROUND THE EARTH !! 


CONTAINING AN ACCOUNT OF HIS BIRTH, PARENTAGE, 
AND EDUCATION, TRAVELS TO REMARKABLE PLACES, LOVE 
ADVENTURES, OPINIONS ON THINGS IN GENERAL, WITH 
PHILOSOPHICAL REMARKS ON PARTICULAR SUBJECTS. 


“ ’Tis pleasant sure to see one’s name in print, 
A book’s a book, although there’s nothing in't 


PAISLEY i 

PRINTED BY G. CALDWELL 2, NEW STREET, 

1857. 
















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DEDICATION. 


This Work or Labour of Love is, by permis¬ 
sion, respectfully dedicated to The Paisley 
Literati, as a small token of admiration for 
their multifarious and transcendent abilities in 

every branch of literature, from the produc¬ 
tions of a newspaper “ Gossiping Correspond¬ 
ent/' to this Autobiography. 

By their sincere friend, 

And well-wisher, 


THE AUTHOR, 


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.HOJIT i >' ft’IT 





PREFACE. 


* Love doth approach armed in arguments.” 

Shakespeare 


Mr namesake, William Shakespeare, Esquire, 
of Avon, says that “ the Lunatic , the Lover , and 
the Poet are, in imagination, all compact;” and I 
have observed, that wherever these three char¬ 
acteristics are found combined in one person, we 
have, what is termed, a Genius ! Paisley has 
always stood high as a nursery of these species of 
th q genus homo ; and she has produced many speci¬ 
mens of the tria juncta in una. At the present 
time, she abounds with such geniuses, who pride 
themselves in the cognomen Literati. Besides 
the prolific literary productions of the past. Paisley 
can boast of the following works as part of her 
current literature : First, In “ Fame’s proud Tern-- 




8 


p’e ” shines the “ Temple Lamp,” lighting up the 
theological regions ; and, at the same time, shedd¬ 
ing its poetic rays “ on life’s dull stream.” Then 
“ The History of Paisley” unfolds the scroll of 
the past, and, according to a recent critic, shows 
that we are famous in having had the Roman 
Soldiers billited on us for 200 years—(rather 
ambiguous fame)—famous in giving Scotland a 
race of kings—famous in manufactures, including, 
of course, the brick and tile trade—and famous 
in literary and “ desperate characters.” Next 
comesthe “Literary Wallet,” the leading topics 
of which are Philosophy, Physiology, Criticism, 
History, and Poetry ; and whose system of Phil¬ 
osophy is based on the following creed: “We 
“ believe that in our waking hours our sensations 
“ are more powerful, more vivid than our ideas; 
“ and in our sleeping moments it is the reverse— 
“ the senses are overcome and ideation assumes 
u the mastery.”* Then we have “ The Paisley 
Observer,” containing Tales and Original Poetry ; 
and lastly, though not least, “ The Paisley 
Ephemera,” an illustrated production, which 
has in no small degree sustained the artistic 


* Vide P. 8 of The Paislev Wallet. 

w 


0 


talent of the Town; and although the literature 
of this publication is of the burlusque order, it 
also contains some first-class Poetry The verses 
“by a Lady” in a recent number were particularly 
good; I like to flatter the Ladies. The above list 
does not, of course, include our own Newspapers, 
or our contributions to the Glasgow Press, and 
various Metropolitan and Provincial perodicals. 

Paisley is truly a wonderful town; and her in¬ 
habitants, like the Jews, are a peculiar'people. 
W hether this poetic and literary talent is owing 
to her proximity to the classical village of Kilbar- 
chan, whether the River-cart, which meanders in 
beauty through her midst, engenders this literary 
amorousness, or whether it is to be accounted for 
in the great quantity of oatmeal which her people 
consume,* are questions which will no doubt yet 
be solved by one or other of her present historians. 

As no Autobiography has yet issued from the 
Paisley Press, I have thought it proper to pub¬ 
lish the present work for three reasons. 1st. To 
fill up this Biographical Hiatus in our local liter¬ 
ature. 2nd. To save the Historical Antiquarian 
a deal of trouble and research hereafter ; and at 

* We cultivate literature on a little oatmeal .—Sydney Smith. 


10 


the same time, to hand down my name and my 
fame to future generations; for, as Shakespeare 
observes, “ if a man do not erect, in this age, 
“ his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live no longer 
“ in monuments; therefore it is most expedient for 
“ the wise to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as 
“ I am to myself—so much for praising myself, 
“who I my self will bear witness, am praiseworthy.” 
And 3d. To illustrate the great truth lately en- 
uciated at Edinburgh by a learned Professor, who, 
in speaking of talent , mdustry, and character , said, 
“ talent is perhaps the most shining of the three, 
“ but, without industry and character talent can- 
“ not win its way through the world—the last two 
“ are the main elements that can carry man or 
“ woman through life.” 1 do not claim to have 
talent to any very shining extent, but I can proudly 
say, that to industry and being a character I owe my 
mercantile success and prosperity. Like my 
great predecessor in business, (who is soon to 
have a monument erected to his memory,) 

“ Sax pounds I wadna for my pack ance taen, 

And I could baldly brag ’twas a’ my ain.” 

0 

Although I have quoted these lines, and, like 
some of my contemporary literateurs have, in the 


11 


course of my life, made a few attempts at rhyme 
I am no Poet, and do not wish to be suspected of 
such a failing, seeing that Macaulay the Historian 
in his essay on Milton corroborates Shakespeare’s 
Poetico-lunatic theory, and asserts that “no per- 
“ son can be a Poet, or can even enjoy Poetry 
“ without a certain unsoundness of mind.’’ 

Some moralists hold that a person has no 
right to do what he pleases with his own life. 
I think that is a mistake. My opinion is, that it 
is not only every man’s right, but his duty to 
make the most he can of his life; and in that 
opinion I am borne out by a protemporary, Mr 
Tristram Shandy, who says that “ the sweat of 
“ a man’s brows and the exudations of a man’s 
“brains are as much a man’s own property as 
“ the breeches upon his backsideand as my life 
has hitherto been devoted to mercantile pursuits, 
I am determined now to make it a mercantile 
commodity. 

From the Critics—for this great work is sure 
to be criticised—I ask no favour, and I expect 
none. I defy them all—they may depend upon 
it, that a man of my literary talent and commer- 
cial experience, will not be 


“ Snuffed out by an article.” 


12 


No, no : I am too tough a customer for that. 
To use a favourite expression of a great captain, 
(ye can 4 whistle o’er the lave o’t,”) “^them that 
meddles wi’ me, meddles wi’ a droll ane. r 

To those members of the Renfrew County Kil¬ 
winning Lodge, who had such a high appreciation 
of me, as to desire that I would dedicate this 
work to that body, I beg to tender my sincere 
thanks. I can assure them that I would have done 
so with much pleasure, but, as this was my first 
literary work, and likely to stamp Paisley as the 
seat of Genius, I thought my co-literateurs had 
the first and best claim. 

Should the sale of this work add to my emolu¬ 
ments while living, as it will establish my fame 
when dead; and if its perusal should be the means 
of arousing the dormant or lazy energies of some 
of my fellow-townsmen, and thereby develope and 
promote habits of industry, then this production 
will not be 

44 LOVE’S Labour Lost.’ 


Paisley, July, 1857- 


CHAPTEK I. 


Coming events cast their Shadows before. 

Campbell . 


A Black Pudding V’ quoth my Grandfather, 
“ what an idea !” £; Mr Love,” said mv Grand- 

mother, (she always called him Mr Love, for she 
was a very polite and a very learned woman,) a 
black pudding is no idea; an idea is not a sub¬ 
stance, now a black pudding is a palpable sub¬ 
stance ; it is a concretion of the blood and suet 
of an animal of the ruminant order of the class 
mammalia, encased in a cutaneous gut of the same 
animal, vulgarly called Tripe.” “ And what do 
I care about all that ?” said my grandfather, who 
detested a scientific discussion, especially with my 
grandmother, because he was ignorant of scienti¬ 
fic matters, and there she liked to shew off her 
superiority. After a short pause, £i Mr Love,” 
said my grandmother, £; I must taste black pudding, 
and that’s the short and the long of it, and you 
know, you are bound, as my husband, to satisfy all 
my reasonable desires.” “ Surely, surely,” said 
my grandfather, “ if you would confine yourself to 
what is reasonable —but is it reasonable to ask me 
to rise from a warm bed at this time in the morn- 




14 


ing to get black pudding, merely to gratify a wo¬ 
man’s whim V' “ A woman’s whim V* said my 
grandmother, “it’s no whim, Mr Love, it is a ne¬ 
cessity and therefore- ” “ Has no law,” said my 

grandfather, interrupting her. “ Whether it has 
law or not,” said my grandmother, “unless I get 
black jfudding, I’ll not be responsible for the Loves 
of future generations.” “ Black puddings and future 

generations may go-” My grandfather did 

not finish the sentence, at all events it was in¬ 
audible, as he began to snore, and my grand¬ 
mother turned her face to the wall and sobbed. 

This happened on the 14th of November, 1794, 
at 3 o’clock in the morning, and on the 11th of 
February following, at half-past 10 in the evening, 
my father was born. 

“ Is the child all right ?” said my grandmother. 
“ He’s a gallant boy—I never saw a prettier, * 
said the midwife. “ Hand him to me,” said mv 
grandmother. “ I was sure of it,” she exclaimed, 
“ Do you see that mark there?” pointing with her 
finger, 






15 


“ I knew it—it’s all Mr Love’s fault—I told him 

what it would be-” “ It’s a mercy it’s not on 

the face,” said the midwife. 

I have been the more particular on this matter 
as it accounts for a certain physiological peeu- 
larity in the Love family. Besides it may throw 
some light on a hitherto dark, or, to use a more 
scientific word, occult point in physiology—cause 
and effect. Was my Grandmother—honest 
woman—right in her assumjtion? Was the 
effect the result of a culpa, as she stated, and, if 
so, was it a positive or a negative ? It is admit¬ 
ted by all Philosophers, that a pudding is an ex¬ 
ception to a general rule, because it has two ends 
— may this phenomenon not have had two causes ? 
Could it not be explained by the laws of Photogra¬ 
phy. I merely throw out this hint, and will now 
leave the matter in the hands of the scientific 
for discussion. But. methinks I hear a knowing 
member of the Paisley Philosophical Society say, 
was there really a mark after all ? Was it not a 
mere occular hallucination ? Well, perhaps it 
was. I know the qnestion, like all other scientific 
matters, is hedged round with difficulties. 



CHAPTER II. 


All the world’s a stage, 

And all the men and women merely players. 

Shakespeare . 


From the year 1789, when an infuriated Parisian 
mob carried, on pikes, the heads of the murdered 
Delaunav, Governor of the Bastille, and De 
Flesselles, the Provost of Trades, till the fall of 
the curtain in 1815 on the Tableau of Waterloo, 
the European stage had been occupied, almost 
exclusively, by a succession of Tragedies. The 
Melo-drama followed, and when the great cur¬ 
tain rose on the 1st of January, 1819, the scene 
was peaceful. Most of the tragic actors having 
“ strutted their little hour ” had made their exit 
to return no more. A Bourbon sat, apparently 
secure on the French throne. George III. who 
had played a prominent part during the whole of 
that period still, nominally at least, swayed the 
the British sceptre. And the leading Tragedian, 
Napoleon, who had been compelled to retire from 
his favourite walk, stood on a rock in the South 
Atlantic Ocean, with his arms folded, looking 
across the wide waste of waters in the direction 




17 


of the North eastern horizon, thinking of his for¬ 
mer greatness, and as if anxious to get one last 
glimpse of chivalrous France. In the course of 
the year that follows—1819 —four great charac¬ 
ters made their debut on the world’s stage, who 
were destined to play leading parts in the great 
Drama, viz.: Our beloved Sovereign Queen Vic¬ 
toria, His Royal Highness Prince Albert, Myself, 
and His Royal Highness the Duke of Cambridge] 
Shakespeare says “that some are born great, some 
achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust 
upon them.” That truth is well illustrated in the 
four individuals above named. Her Majesty, the 
Queen, may be said to have been born great; 
Prince Albert by his marriage; and the Duke 
by his appointment to the Commander-in-chief- 
ship of the Army, may be said to have had 
greatness thrust upon them, while I have achieved 
my greatness by my own inherent talents and 
steadiness of purpose. • 

The next great point of importance after the 
period of birth is th e place where the illustrous per¬ 
son made his debut. The spot where I was born 
was in the Tenement, No. 26 Queen Street, 
Paisley. Besides myself, Paisley has given birth 
to many whom the world delights to honour; and 
she has many in her midst just now who will yet 
be seen and acknowledged as 

“ Stars in the literary firmament.” 


18 


The first glimmer of consciousness—of the 
knowledge —I am —in the life of a great man is 
generally, when it can be ascertained, made a 
matter of much importance and of deep specu¬ 
lation among the learned. That no doubt arises 
to test the truth of the common saying, 

“ The child is father to the man.” 

The first thing which I recollect, was being 
sent by my Mother to a well-known Eating-house 
in the Wellmeadow for a pound of the best Potted- 
head—the price of which was to be 4d. On enter¬ 
ing the shop, I asked for a pound of Pottedhead 
The shopkeeper enquired whether I wanted it at 
3*d. or 4d.? Not then knowing there was such a 
thing as a difference in the quality of an article, I 
naturally reasoned, if I can get a pound of potted- 
head for 3id. why should I give 4d. for it? so I 
at once said 3£d. I got the article, paid my 3id; 
put the other id., which I considered fair profit 
on the bargain, in my pocket and trudged home 
with my message. I did not say anything to my 
mother about the profit I had made on this, my 
first business transaction, but ran out as fast as I 
could, and was very proud in shewing my fortune 
to the boys about the doors. Some of the bigger 
ones wantedme to buy powder to makepeoti*. others 
wanted me to bu^ blackman , but the more sen¬ 
sible wanted me to buy a scone. I stoutly resisted 
all their importunities, and put the money in my 


19 


pocket thinking it too much to spend all at once. 
Being so rich, I was quite an important character 
among my compeers, and some of the elder hoys, 
in the most friendly manner, took me through 
to the Gallowgreen (where in former times the 
witches were burnt) to learn me to stand on my 
head, like Malabar, the great wizard of that day. 
I made two or three ineffectual attempts to stand 
on my head with my feet against a coal-house door. 
While so engaged, I observed the bigger boys 
running off, and on getting to my feet and putting 
my hand in my pocket I found that my money 
was gone. Of course no one knew anything about 
it. On missing it, my grief was great, and 
I cried bitterly. I was led home by a troop 
of children, and when my mother opened the door 
and enquired what was wrang, upwards of a dozen 
voices shouted out at once “ Willie’s lost his baw¬ 
bee.” My Mother took me in and enquired where 
I had got the bawbee. I said that I made it atf 
the pottyhead-wife. Ye made it aff the potty- 
head-wife ? What did ye pay for the pottyhead ? 
enquired my mother in one breath. 3id. said I 
with the utmost simplicity, for I was unconscious 
of any wrong. Ye young rascal, said she, I was sure 
ye hadna brought the richt thing—but I’ll let yer 
father ken yer conduct when he comes hame the 
nicht—and she kept her word. My father was a 
very douce, decent, honest, man—noways rash in 
his movements. He did not, as many no doubt 


20 


would have done, in the same circumstances, give 
me a scolding or a thrashing; hut what was far 
better, he gave me an advice; and among other 
things calmly said, “ Now Willie, this loss o’ yer 
“ bawbee should be a lesson to ye a’ yer days, that 
“ honesty is the best policy, and that siller that 
“ disna come richt never gangs richt.” Since that 
time I never see pottedhead but I recollect my first 
commercial transaction—my bankruptcy, caused 
by trying to stand on my head, and my father’s 
lecture, and I have hitherto endeavoured, so far as 
a mercantile man can, to walk up to the 
principles laid down in that lecture, 

Moral Reflection. 

Many a man who considered himself rich in the 

4/ 

world’s goods, and wise in his day and generation, 
has fallen from his high estate by attempting, like 
me, to stand on his head. 


CHAPTER III. 


In days when gude king Robert rang, 

His trews they cost but half-a-crown. 

Old Song . 

King Stephen was a worthy peer, 

His breeches cost him but a crown. 

Shakspeare. 

Thir breeks o 1 mine, my only pair, 

That ance were plush o’ gude blue hair. 

Burns. 


Breeks ! what a train of ideas is suggested to 
the contemplative by that one word, Breeks l 
Common minds see nothing particular in anything 
—to them 

u A primrose by the river‘s side, 

A yellow primrose is, and nothing more.” 

And the ordinary observer sees in Breeks, 

A pair of Breeks and nothing more. 

The theologian beholds in Breeks the symbol of 
man’s degeneracy. While the mere historian by 
their means traces the onward march from bar¬ 
barism to civilization. 

The Philosopher sees in Breeks the sign of 
man’s perogative, his right to the supreme rule 
in his own house. He cannot, however, shut his 
eyes to the fact that this right is more nominal 




22 


than real. From the time when the first Breeks 
were made till now, the fair sex—“the weaker 
vessel,”—as they are sometimes erroneously 
called, will “ wear the Breeks.” Mrs Socrates, 
of immortal memory, has been held up as the 
great representative woman—she was a heroine 
who wore the Breeks, and no mistake. Why do 
the writers for the “ Waverley” not agitate for a 
monument to that good lady, that representative 
woman ? What a monster Burns was to write 
on such a subject thus:— 

“ Were such the wife had fallen to my part, 

I’d break her spirit, or I’d break her heart, 

I’d charm her with the magic of a switch, 

I’d kiss her maids and kick the.” 

Methinks I hear the sweet voices of the “ Waver¬ 
ley” ladies exclaim, O the brute ! we could 
“ scratch his eyes out.” Public opinion and 
fashion are two great powers—more powerful 
than steam, in their own way. Public opinion 
declared itself against the breeks usurpation, and 
was on the eve of crushing it, when another 
heroine appeared—General Bloomer—and con¬ 
tested the field, and the battle cry, “ the rights of 
women,” was loudly heard amidst the strife. 
After a severe contest, matters were compromised 
on the footing that the ladies should be allowed 
to wear feminine breeks, to be called after their 
leader, “ Bloomers.” Public opinion, however, 



23 


after pretending to ratify the compromise, drew 
the sword of ridicule against the Bloomer-breeks, 
and fairly laughed them down. The ladies again 
took the field, and with their strong ally, fashion, 
once more took up arms, and under the standard 
crinoline,” renewed the war cry, “ the rights of 
woman.” If the ladies succeed in the present 
contest, (and crinoline certainly appears in the 
ascendant), and if they do get into Parliament, 
Paisley will surely then get a member who can 
speak. I believe the rights of women cry is a 
mere dodge to prevent or obstruct any legisla¬ 
tion on the rights of man. Lord Palmerston 
must direct his attention to a reform in the home 
policy. We are in great want of a law defining 
the rights of man. I dont think I’ll marry till 
we have such a law. For example, take even 
our municipal magnates. After smoking their 
calumets at their club, on returning to their res¬ 
pective places of abode, are they not questioned 
and cress-questioned in the words of the sang, 

“ Whar hae ye been ? and wliat were ye doin ? and wha 

were ye wi ?” 

Aye, and if they would but speak out, far war 
than that. Talk of Tom Paine’s “ Rights of 
Man.” Fiddlesticks. There’s no such thing— 
its all theory. But I hear some one say, what 
has all this got to do with the story of your life, 
Mr. Love ? Nothing, I reply, only it affords 


24 


another proof that a philosopher cannot write on 
even common place subjects, without philoso¬ 
phising, and throwing a halo around them. It 
tests genius. Now for my story. 

There are epochs in the life of man as well as 
in the history of the world. Perhaps the great¬ 
est is the first breeJcs. Who does not recollect 
his first breeks ? What pride ; what walking up 
and down and looking up to every one with an 
eve saying, look at me—see how grand I am. 
Well do I remember that great occasion in my 
eventful life. After the breeks were on, and but¬ 
toned, and what beautiful buttons—I had never 
seen anything so pretty. I strutted up and down 
as proud as a peacock, putting my hands in my 
pockets, and taking them out over and over again. 
Then I took from that wonderful pocket the 
tailors luckspenny, looked at it, and put it back 
to its place, times without number. I am sure 
that I felt more pride and consequentiality 
(there’s a grand word), on the first day of my 
first breeks, than I would do now were Her 
Majesty to touch me with a sword and say, Rise 
up Sir William Love.” Next came my visiting 
the neighbours and various relatives, accompanied 
by a train of children, shewing off my new breeks, 
and getting an occasional bawbee to put in my 
pockets. I was told that I looked stunning— 
that I was now a man—that I must get a wife » 
At that remark the little girls who were present, 


os 

4 > yO 

stood forward as much as saying, “ will ye tak 
me Willie?” But the great, the all absorbing 
idea of the breeks, was the pockets. I recollect 
that my first expression, in answer to the con¬ 
gratulations of my friends was, 



I’YE G-OT POCKETS 111 
Being a philosopher, I cannot refrain from 
moralising on that expression, I’ve got pockets. 
How many have never got rid of it. It has stuck 
to them through life, it will stick to them till 
death. Men of one idea—the pocket—they live 
and move, and have their being apparently for 
their pocket—their small stingy soul, as the 
Yankees say, lies in a corner of their pocket. 













26 


What do they care about being called dishonest 
—stingy—mean ? Nothing. They “ lay the 
flattering unction to their soul,” and each soothes 
himself with the idea, IVe got money in my pocket 
Their very attempt at honesty is a sore trial* 
Their maxim, make money honestly if you can’ 
but make money, is their moral pole star. They 
object to National Education, on principle , and 
say, let parents educate their brats out of their 
own pockets, what have we to do with them ? 
Their system of politics is, take the taxes out of 
some other body‘s pockets, not out of ours ; they 
are peace men and denounce war, because it 
touches their pocket,—their religion is mammon 
—they worship the golden calf—most appro¬ 
priate deity—they live unrespected, if not detested, 
yet, as this is a free country, each may have a 
monument erected to his memory, if he pays for 
if out of his own pocket. 



k 


CHAPTER IV. 


—He was one 
Schooled in adversity. 

Bard of the Usorth. 


When about four years of age, I was placed in 
Hutcheson’s Charity School to get my education. 
The master, a good easy-osy sort of a person, saw 
that I was a genius and therefore took a special 
interest in my improvement in letters. Under 
his training I soon passed through the Gate of 
all learning—the Alphabet. In about six months 
I could read “ lo a man and a gun,” without spell¬ 
ing the words, which was accounted a great feat 
for a charity scholar, and for which I received 
*• honourable mention ” at the annual examina¬ 
tion. I do not blush in the least in confessing 
that I was a charity scholar, seeing that I was the 
son of a poor but an honest and upright man. 
Besides, as I have attained to eminence through 
my own exertions, I am entitled to the greater 
credit and honour among my fellow-men. 

Circumstances, however, rule everything. Per¬ 
haps my feelings on being a charity scholar 
would have been different had my father been able 




to have paid for my education. I know that 
if I have the means, no son of mine shall ever be 
in the position to have it thrown in his teeth by 
some low bred scamp, perhaps, that he was taught 
in a charity school. I dont object to charity 
schools—not the least—they are noble, praise¬ 
worthy institutions, but I would have charity 
schools for charity scholars. “ The right men in 
the right place,” has become a national cry, why 
not the right boys in the right place. 

I got on with my education to the surprise of 
every one, and before twelve months elapsed I 
was as far as the lesson beginning 

“ Tom, can you tell me the use of your nose ?” 

and before another year had passed I was quite 
at home in 

“ My name is Norval, on the Grampian hills,” and 
“ John Gilpin was a Citizen.” 

At this time I was progressing in knowledge 
and wisdom beyond the most sanguine expecta¬ 
tions of mv friends and teachers. 

A Professor of Phrenology who once examined 
my Bumps said that I had a splendid develope- 
ment—that I had the head of a Genius and wa3 
destined for greatness. My after life has proved 
that he was correct. While at school 

r v 

“ Thoughts of great deeds were mine.” 


29 


In my fervid imagination, the Pulpit and the 
Bar “loomed in the distance,” as fields for the 
exercise and display of my abilities. Had I 
studied for the Pulpit Iwould, no doubt, have been 
like Queen Elizabeth, of happy memory, a 
“ Bright Occidental Star.” Had I tried the Bar 
I might have been Lord Chancellor of England; 
or had I thrown myself into the arena of Politics 
I would, in all likelihood, have been Premier. 
The only position for which, I felt, nature had 
not designed me was a General. I was always in¬ 
clined for peace—peace at any price—so that had 
I been member for Paislev in the House of Com- 

f/ 

mons, at the time of the Russian War, I would 
instinctively have joined the Cobden-Bright party, 
and then Peace and Love joined together might 
have crumpled up our northern enemies. I 
believe, however, that war is necessary to estab¬ 
lish Peace. With a rampant foe, it is absurd to 
reason about Peace and arbitration. A blow is 
the only argument—it convinces, if it does not 
convert—as Shakespeare says : 

“ In peace, there’s nothing more becomes a man, 

As mild behaviour and humility ; 

But, when the blast of war blows in our ears, 

• Let us be tigers in our fierce deportment.” 

I recollect well that when at school my peace 
propensities began to develope. When the 
Hutcheson Boys—that’s a softer expression than 


30 


Charity Boys—and the Emeralders—another 
School then at the bottom of the Penbrae, now 
styled the Pantheon—met in battle array—which 
was a thing of every-day occurence—and when 
they tested their scholastic superiority with sticks 
and stones and fists, I attempted to negotiate and 
make peace; but there I learned that in such cases 
it was better and safer either to retire from the 
melee or at once take a side and act with firm- 
ness, for 

“ Dangers retreat when boldly they’re confronted.” 

The fact is, that on these occasions, speaking 
poetically, 

I was treated with contempt by friends and foes, 

And oft retreated from the field with a bloody nose. 


CHAPTER V. 


Tis fate diverts our course, and fate we must obey. 

Dry den's Virgil. 

There’s a divinity doth shape our ends, 

Hough hew them how we may. 

Slialcspeare. 

The best laid schemes o’ mice and men, 

Gang aft agee. 

Burns. 


Were you, good reader, ever at a fair ? If you 
were, you must have heard such cries as these — 
“ This way, this way, put your hand in the pock, 
all prizes, no blanks.” “ Come away my lucky 
lads, choose vour colours while the ball rolls, 
“ there’s two to one on the black.” “ Sport away, 
“ sport away, above seven or below seven, seven’s 
“ iny chance.” “ Be down in time, gentlemen, this 
“ is the place for making your fortunes, the real 
“ original gold diggings, six to one on the feather, 
“the anchor has it, there’s none on the anchor 
“ the stakes are mine, etc. 

Now, don’t start sweet reader, I am not going, 
to defend these scenes of petty gambling. I would 
simply beg to remark, that to the philosophic 
mind they afford subjects for philosophizing. For 
example, these games are all apparently games of 
chance, it appears to be mere luck if you win. 




32 


Some, even orthodox people, say that life is a game 
of chance, and ruled by luck; and to prove it 
they show instances of successful spoonies, while 
clever fellows like me are always kept in the back 
ground. Notwithstanding these instances, I don’t 
believe in the luck theory, either at the fair, or in 
the game of life. The master of the gaming table 
can and does divert the ball to the colour he wants, 
and, as Virgil says, “ Fate diverts our course, and 
fate we must obey.” I believe with Napoleon in 
destiny. Like the lucky pock at the fair, life is 
also all prizes, and no blanks ; but to be successful 
we must venture, we must put forth our hand and 
draw the prize. The cat in gloves catches no mice, 
says Poor Richard, and the unlucky man has 
generally himself to blame for his bad luck. Nature 
is impartial in the distribution of her prizes, and 
where she falls short in one thing, she makes it up 
by another. I see some have riches without 
brains, and some have brains without riches. In 
my own case I am poor, but my poverty is more 
than compensated by a form faultless and beautiful 
as Adonis. All the ladies are in love with me, 
and no wonder. 

I was not born with a silver spoon in my mouth. 
The flowery paths of life were not for me to tread 
on. I had and have still to travel the rough turn¬ 
pike. My young school boy dream of professional 
greatness and celebrity, was soon dispelled by the 
stern actualities of life. I was early thrown 


33 


the stream like the young niggers to sink or swim, 
and I have had to struggle since for my very 
existence. My parents being unable to support 
me, I was taken from school when about eight 
years of age, and sent to earn my livelihood as a 
weaver’s drawboy. At that occupation I remained 
several years; and during that period my ardent 
genius was cramped as much as ever an Apothe¬ 
cary’s apprentice was over his pestle and mortar. 
As I could not, while pent up in a weaver’s shop, 
get proper scope for the expansion of my intellec¬ 
tual faculties in a literary way, I turned my atten¬ 
tion to politics. There’s no place like a weaver’s 
shop for studying politics. In 1830, I took a deep 
interest in the question of Parliamentary Reform, 
then agitating the country. I attended the great 
Reform demonstrations at Renfrew, when the cry 
was u the Bill, the whole Bill, and nothing but the 
Bill.” There can be no doubt that my moral aid 
and influence very much assisted Lord John Rus¬ 
sell in passing the Reform Bill, which secured our 
constitutional liberties. The young men of the 
present generation can have no idea of the diffi¬ 
culties which we had to contend with at that time 
to secure for them these liberties. I certainly ex¬ 
pected that for such political services I would have 
been rewarded by my political party with a Govern¬ 
ment appointment, but I was doomed to disappoint¬ 
ment, as many others before me have been. The 
day will come, however, it is already u looming 


34 


in the distance,” as Disraeli says, when the right 
man will be put in the right place, when 

“ Sense and worth, o’er a’ the earth 
Shall bear the gree, and a’ that.” 

Then will I get justice. Had I been Her Majesty’s 
representative at Hong Kong, this country would 
not now have been at war with China, and Messrs. 
Bright, Cobden, and many other good men and 
true, would still have been in Parliament. Wars, 
and rumours of wars, invariably arise from having 
the wrong men in place, while the right men are 
in no place at all, as in my own case. When will 
the world learn wisdom ? 

As X grew up my naturally active and ardent 
mind revolted at the common place drudgery of the 
loom, and I determined to free mvself from its 
heddies and treddles. Many a time I mentally 
consigned these articles to the place which 11 ob 
B,oy wished to see Bailie Nicol Jarvis heddles and 
treddles sent to. Having heard and read of Pack¬ 
men I resolved, like Norval of the Grampians, to 
leave my fathers house, and take with me a chosen 
well selected pack, and with it push my fortune in 
the wide, wide world, as a Packman ! or to. use a 
more polite phrase, as a Commercial Traveller- 
The latin scholar, has now the key to my abbreviated 
titled P.C., and yvliieh no other person has any 
right to assume. 


35 


My first pack was very small, and I had many 
difficulties to contend with, but, as patience and 
perseverance was my motto, I soon managed to get 
a portmanteau well stuffed, and then like my pro¬ 
totype, I 

Heezed my pack for a lang hard campaign, 

And as the Highland’s was the place for meat, 

I ventur’d there in spite o’ wind and weet. 

Since that time I have travelled much, and have 
seen and marked the selfishness of man, as well as 
his redeeming qualities. No one can see the 
various phases of life and character like a packman* 
The closet philosopher may sit in his study and 
imagine character, but the packman sees it at every 
step. Every house he enters with his u needles 
and preens,” presents a new feature, and could form 
materials for a story. One crabbed old maid will 
slap the door in his face. Another will ask him in 
and tell him all her complaints, how the neighbours 
ill-use her, and everybody tries to tantalise her, all, 
as she says, because u I’m a lone woman, and have 
not a manbody about the house.” On opening the 
next door, he hears the* joyous voices of children, 
and on entering he sees a tiny congregation ; one 
little boy standing on the arm chair preaching with 
the air of a John Knox, while a younger one sits 
on a stool below acting the part of precentor. The 
congregation are all singing while the preaching 
is going on, and the mother sits amidst the noise 


quite happy looking, with her baby in her lap. 
This is a place where a Packman has a good chance 
of effecting a sale. In one place the Packman sees 
proud stuck-up persons, who contemptuously turn 
up theij noses at him as if they were somebody. 
Poor helpless creatures, thinks the Packman as he 
turns away, you could not eke out existence even at 
the pack. How lucky it was for you that your father 
was bom before you, or many of you might be in 
the poorhouse. In another place he is met with 
the utmost frankness, and, if in the country, he is 
supposed to be able to tell them all the news. 
During the war the usual salutation was, come 
awa man an gae us your crack, what’s the news 
about the Rushians ? Whenever I enter a house 
and see all in confusion, the breakfast dishes stand¬ 
ing unwashed at dinner time, and a dirty slovenly 
wife, I know that self created poverty is there, and 
I spend very little time in such a u staun.” On 
the contrary where I find cleanliness, I find 
economy, and consequently a little spare cash, and 
there I can, generally, effect a sale. In short the 
scenes snd phases of character are like u Highland- 
men’s gartans,” no two aye exactly the same; 

I think Shakspere must have travelled with the 
pack in his youth. I cannot imagine how he could 
otherwise have been such a powerful delineator of 
u human natur,” as Sam Slick calls it—by the 
bye Mr Slick was also a Packman-—and then 
Burns, if he was not at one time a Packman, he 


37 


must have associated with that fraternity, or he 
never could have produced his u Jolly Beggars'"— 
The incidents in a Packman's travels are innu¬ 
merable, some of them rich and rare. If this 
work pays, I may be induced to publish another^ 
titled, 


TRAVELS AND INCIDENTS 
OF A PACKMAN 


WITH RUNNING COMMENTARIES ON THINGS IN GENERAL. 


CHAPTER VI. 


He saw with his own eyes the Moon was round ; 
Was also certain that the Earth was square; 

For he had travelled fifty miles, and found 
No sign of its being circular anywhere. 

Byron. 

I have trod merry England, and dwelt on her charms, 
I have wandered through Erin, the gem of the sea. 

Bark. 

I’ve wandered east, I’ve wandered west, 

Through mony a weary way. 

Motherwell . 


Its all very well for Chamber Students to study', 
in their closets, Goldsmith’s History of the Earth and 
Animated Nature, Shakspeare’s Humanity or Hum- 
bolt’s Cosmos, and thereby acquire a second-hand 
view of such things, but a real genuine knowledge of 
subjects can only be acquired by travelling, and 
seeing the world as it is, and man with his every¬ 
day clothes on. A person’s knowledge ought to 
be estimated by what he has seen with u his own 
eyes,” and heard with his own ears—and what he 
has seen can only be measured by the extent ot his 
travelling, and such travelling must be bona fide. 
Now what is a bona fide traveller ? That question 
has puzzled lawyers, linguists, and more especially 




39 


Justices of the Peace. It appears still undefined. 
In place of consulting dictionaries and dead lan¬ 
guages, had my opinion been asked, I would have 
settled the question at once—by saying—I am a 
Bona fide Traveller. Because I do really and 
truly travel. To be whirled along on a railway : 
borne down the river, up the lake, or across the 
ocean in a steamer or ship, or driven along the 
turnpike in a carriage, is not travelling—the per¬ 
sons are merely live cargo. They are not in the 
plain meaning of the term bona fide travellers. 

Without detracting from Dr. Livingston’s web 
earned laurels, I think I might safely boast of 
having travelled as much as he, if not more! and 
yet no demonstration has been made in mv 
favour. 1 have received no public testimonial, I 
am neither an L.L.D., nor a K.C.B., although, I 
have no doubt, if the Paisley Walking Swimming 
and General Recreation Association, or the Royal 
Paisley Pedestrians got the hint, they would both 
elect me an honorary member. I cannot account 
for this neglect of my claims, except by the con¬ 
soling fact that real genius is seldom honoured 
till lie 

Shuffles off the mortal coil.” 

Speaking of Testimonials, this may be called the aye 
of Testimonials and Presentations. Who is there in 
Paisley at least who has not a Snuff-box, or a Stick, 
or something which he u in a neat and appropriate 


40 


*% 

yf/ 

R 


speed)/ 1 promised to hand down to his posterity* 
and bearing some such inscription as the following : 
— u Presented to (John Smith), Esquire, by a 
number of his friends and ardent admirers, as a 
token of their respect and esteem for his many ex¬ 
cellent qualities as a man, and his usefulness as a 
citizen.—(1857.) Of course the inscription varies 
according to circumstances, as in the following in¬ 
stance :— u This Stick is Presented to (Timothy 
Jenkins), Police Officer, by a number of Spirit 
Dealers, in testimony of their appreciation of his 
activity and vigilance in the prevention of crime? 
as proved by the fact that on his beat no case, under 
Forbes Mackenzie’s Act, had been prosecuted 
during the last twelve months.—(1857.) I have 
no objections to Testimonials and Presentations in 
themselves, but I would like to see them limited to 
the right men. Don’t think I am saying this out 
of spite, or on the principle of the sour grapes—no 
such thing; I might have got a Presentation long 
ago, if I had merely asked a friend or two to set 
about it, and go round for subscriptions. I know 
the way to do it, but I’ll have none got by dun¬ 
ning—to me it must be a spontaneous free-will 
offering. 

But to return to my travels—I have been a bona 
fide traveller for the last twenty-five years, and to 
shew the extent of ground I have gone over during 
that period, I had better state it in figures. Twenty 
miles a day /and that is within the mark), six days’ 


in the week, is 120 miles a week, or 6,240 miles a 
year, or 156,000 miles m the 25 years. So that 
taking the estimated circumference of the Earth 
at 24,930 miles, I have travelled since I began 
business, more than = Six times round the Earth. 
Can Dr Livingston beat that % If I am not a bona 
fide traveller and worthy of being an honorary 
M.P.W.S., & G.R.A., and a R.P.P., I would like 
to know who is. 

In this small book it is, of course, impossible to 
give the particulars of my travels over such a vast 
field, including the Cambraes and the adjacent 
Islands of Great Britain and Ireland—but I will 
briefly, and as a specimen of what a book I could 
write, give a few of my leading peregrinations. 

With my Pack on my shoulders, I trudged over 
the Gleniffer Braes, through Dunlop, and down 
upon Kilwinning to do a little business at the great 
Eglinton Tournament. I made rather a good 
tiling of it among the smokers, in the lucifer match 
line; really they needed a smoke, for such weather 
as we had—it rained without intermission during 
the whole time of the Tournament. I have, in my 
travels, seen many daft folk, but I never saw so 
many collected as on that occasion. They were in 
thousands, and from all quarters—standing like 
drouket craws, but perfectly quiet and harmless. 
The cold water cure must have had a soothing 
effect on their nerves. Plaving had a green um¬ 
brella, I was often taken for Prince Napoleon (the 


42 


present Emperor of the French), and sometimes 
for the Marquis of Waterford, in disguise. I heard 
many remark, after buying a box of matches ,— u he 
must be doing it for a wager.” Although my sales 
were good, I could not help pitying the poor idiots, 
going about for days and nights drenched to the 
skin, to see a show—to see imitation Don Quix¬ 
otes, and Sanclio Panzas—to see 

“ in bloodless pomp array’d, 

The pasteboard triumph and the cavalcade.” 

Another of my leading excursions was to Bal¬ 
moral. I went there as a loyal subject, to pay a 
visit to Her Majesty, at her own house. I started 
from Paisley through Dumbarton, on by Locli- 
lomand to Aberfeldy, from thence by Dunkeld to 
Blair Athol, where I arrived on the Saturday night, 
having travelled four days. I had many adventures 
on the way, which I have noted for my great work, 
“ Incidents of my Travels.” I went to church on 
Sunday with the Duke of Athol. The Duke did 
not invite me to dine with him, because, as I sup¬ 
pose, he saw that I was not in full dress. I left 
Blair Athol on Monday morning, for Braemar. I 
met a party of Ladies and Gentlemen whom, in 
passing, I very politely saluted, which they as 
politely returned. I overhead them asking one 
another who I was, one said I think lie’s Sir 
Robert Peel,” another remarked, u he walks like 
the Duke of Cambridge,” a third said, “ he’s like 


43 


Prince Albert.” They all however concluded that 
I w~as a very great man, and I walked on as im- 
portant looking as possible. On reaching Braemar 
Castle, I found an" immense gathering of people, 
and a regiment of soldiers, all waiting the arrival 
of Her Majesty. I sauntered about, looking at 
the scenery, and when the word, spread that Her 
Majesty had arrived, there was great excitement. 
I got into a good position for seeing the Royal 
procession. The carriage in which the Queen and 
Prince Albert were, halted for a short time where 
I stood. I took off my hat and cried, u Long live 
Queen Victoria,” at which she looked at me and 
smiled. I then cried, u Long live Prince Albert.” 
He was a long time in acknowledging me, but after 
a while he gave me a very dry nod. The Queen 
then gave me a very gracious bow, and smiled a 
second time. Prince Albert appeared very angry 
and jealous at seeing me there, and so much taken 
notice of, or, I think Her Majesty would 
have spoken to me. The carriage then moved off 
amid great cheering. I heard many of the on¬ 
lookers remark that I was a far handsomer man 
than the Prince. The next time I saw Her 
Majesty was on the balcony of the castle, looking 
at the games, and the Highlanders dancing in the 
park. After the games Her Majesty and suite left 
for Balmoral, and on the carriage with the royal 
party again passing me, I gave Her Majesty a 
very polite bow, which she very sweetly returned. 


1 punished the Prince on this occasion by not 
taking the slightest notice of him, at which he 
appeared very much chagrined. When the maids 
of honour passed I bowed to them, which they very 
kindly acknowledged. I saw them looking after 
me quite delighted, and evidently in love with me. 
I followed the royal party to Balmoral, and as I 
always endeavour to unite business with pleasure^ 
I sold goods on the way, and turned a little money. 
On reaching Balmoral I got lodgings in the house 
of a shepherd. I got up in the morning and went 
to the castle, where I fell in with the maids of 
honour. They spoke to me and were perfectly 
delighted with me. I think they would have gone 
the length of proposing marriage, but at that mo¬ 
ment Her Majesty appeared on horseback, and we 
had to separate, which was, no doubt, a great trial 
to them. After that I went into the Royal Boot 
and Shoe Shop, at Balmoral, to sell goods, and while 
there two gentlemen came in, who priced several 
of my articles, and entered into conversation with 
me, and seemed much surprised at my general in¬ 
telligence and information, seeing, as they said, that 
I was not an elector. They appeared very anxious 
to know the state of political feeling in Paisley, re 
garding parliamentary reform. I told them that 
since assisting to pass the Reform Bill, I had taken 
little or no interest in politics. One of them said 
“Paisley is the most enlightened place in the coun¬ 
try.” “No doubt of it (said the other), it* gives 


the tone of politics to Europe.” They did not, 
however, buy any thing from me, although they 
took up a deal of my time talking to them and giv¬ 
ing them information, and I left them in the shop* 
I have been told since that one of them was Lord 
John Russell. On leaving Balmoral I visited 
several parts of the Highlands, and returned home 
via Perth and Stirling. 

In the year 1851, everybody went to London to 
see the Great Exhibition, and I went too. Having 
once before travelled on foot to London, I took 
the sea for a change, and sailed from the 
Bromielaw. For some time the voyage was pleas¬ 
ant, but afterwards it came on a violent storm. 
The waves ran mountains high, and dashed our 
vessel backwards and forwards, and then burst 
over it as if to bury it in the dread abyss, but the 
gallant ship went nobly on, steming the angry 
waves. The captain seemed afraid, for he was 
continually roaring to some one or another, and the 
passengers were crouching here and there below,hold¬ 
ing on by whatever they could clutch to keep them 
from being tumbled from the one side to the other 
as the ship pitched—I remained on deck calm and 
serene amidst the war of elements, encouraging the 
captain and crew. After the storm had subsided 
a little, a cabin passenger who had seen and admired 
my coolness, came on deck and took me below, 
and gave me a glass of spirits. When I looked 
round on the pale faces of the passengers^ I could 


46 


not help thinking that our great Paisley Poet, 
Davie Webster, was not far wrong when, in his 
poetic account of the wreck at Arenthrew, he sang, 

“ If I think about ganging abroad, 

Nae sailing for me. faith I‘ll hurl.“ 

When will Paisley erect a Monument to Davie’s 
memory? Royal Arenthrew! famous in song 
and story—classic spot ! where the Royal Liter¬ 
ary & Philosophical Potatoe & Herring Incor¬ 
poration holds its annual re-unions—why do you 
forget Davie, who sang of your Bannocks and 
Salmon ? But to resume 

We arrived all safe at Blackwall pier, London, 
early on the morning of the fourth day of our 
voyage. The captain’s lady having seen and 
admired my courage during the storm, ordered me 
two days provisions, and some of the sailors con¬ 
fessed that my example spurred them on to greater 
exertions in working the vessel, or we might all 
have gone to the bottom—another proof of the 
value of true courage and a good example. 

Having landed I made for Hyde Park, the great 
point of attraction, which I reached about 10 o’clock 
in the forenoon, and entered the Exhibition. The 
sight which was presented, was certainly very 
grand and imposing, and the buzz and hum of 
voices, and of people of every nation continually 
passing up and down, had a strange effect. The 
first view seemed the realization of Aladdin’s Crvs- 


47 


tal Palace, reared by tlie genii of the lamp. Among 
the first things which attracted my attention was a 
splendid portrait of Her Majesty. Not far from it 
there was another portrait, which might have 
passed for mine, but I understand that it was in¬ 
tended for Prince Albert. I think the artist must 
have seen me somewhere, as the most striking 
points of my physiognomy were adroitly put in to 
give the portrait a princely appearance. I remained 
in the Exhibition five hours, looking at the numer¬ 
ous objects of interest, and then being fatigued, I 
went to my lodgings. 

When I lay down in bed that night my mind was 
in a strange whirl of excitement; I had, within the 
last few hours, seen more than Eastern imagination 
could conceive. I lay for some time restless—I 
could net sleep. After a while, I began to doze. 
Suddenly I felt myself falling from the top of St. 
Paul’s, but somehow I was not hurt. Again, I was 
in the storm, standing on the deck of the vessel 
which heaved with the billows. Amidst the how¬ 
ling of the tempest, the flash of the lightning made 
the u darkness visible,” and u night hideous.” In 
a twinkling all was calm, and I found myself 

“ Far away, in some region old 
Where the rivers wander o‘er sands of gold; 

Where the burning ravs of the rubv shine, 

O v t 

And the diamond lights up the secret mine, 

And the pearl gleams forth from the coral stand.“ 


48 


And I felt myself in the happy land. I was alone, 
in a canoe gliding smoothly, as if a thing of air, 
on the still bosom of a glassy sea: I floated on 
pleasantly without the slightest exertion, propelled 
by the mere act of my will, that buoyed me up,— 
like Tell’s eagle—but the cup of pleasure was soon 
dashed from my lips; the tiny bark struck on a 
coral reef and filled, and then it and I sank beneath 
the surface—strange sounds filled my ears—while 
sinking I opened my eyes, and beheld all around 
me of a beautiful green, and strange fishes with 
eyes sparkling brighter than the Kooh-i-nor, looked 
wonderingly at me as I continued to sink down, 
down. I fell into a stupour—how long I remained 
in it I cannot say, but when I regained my senses 
I wa3 in a coral cave glittering with gems in¬ 
numerable. After gazing a little, Avrapt in wonder 
and admiration, melodious sounds fell on my ear, 
the like of Avhich I had never heard before. 
Attracted by the music, I left the coral cave and 
entered another apartment, of the most gorgeous 
colours. The roof appeared one vast rainbow, sup¬ 
ported by pillars of adamant, inlaid and variegated 
with gold, rubies, and emeralds. The floor was 
pearl, from which fountains threw up sparkling 
waters of fantastictic colours. Here and there on 
pedestals of alabaster, stood men and Avomen, the 
most beautiful I had ever seen. One like the 
u Greek Slave,” beckoned me toAvards her—I 
approached—she held out her chain in a suppli- 


49 


eating manner. I put fortli my band to release 
her, and when I touched her the whole fabric dis¬ 
solved with a rushing sound, and I found myself 
at the bottom of the sea. Curiously shaped crea¬ 
tures swam around me, and seemed to regard me 
with interest. While looking at them I saw a 
monster approaching me—it was of immense size, 
with an enormous head, and large round eyes—in 
shape like a man—like one of the Knights of Old, 
with his visior down, and encased in leather. It 
seized hold of me; I struggled and shrieked, and 
then I heard a voice saying, u what’ll ye ’ave for 
breakfast. I looked up, all in a tremor, with my 
forehead covered with perspiration, and found that 
I was snug in bed, and the landlady standing 
beside me. I saw at once how matters stood. 
a Ham and Eggs,” said I, and turned round for a 
little on my side to settle my confused ideas. 

After breakfasting I took the road homewards, 
and travelled on foot from London to Liverpool, 
passing through the classical city of Oxford, and 
the great iron towns Birmingham and Sheffield. 
On reaching Liverpool, I put up for the day, and 
sailed next morning for Glasgow, and on my arrival 
there I started for Paisley, and reached home safe 
and sound, having seen the Great Exhibition, and 
met with many adventures on the journey, which 
very considerably increased my knowledge and 
wisdom. 


5 0 


Few persons in speaking of the Exhibition can 
describe it—they all say that its description is im¬ 
possible. Now that arises from ignorance—not 
ignorance in general, but ignorance in particular— 
ignorance of Packmanism. The Great Exhibition 
was neither more nor less than an immense pack, 
spread out and shown off to the best advantage. 
I think Prince Albert must have borrowed the 
idea from me when he saw me with my pack, at 
Braemar, so that it may be said that I was the 
original, or primary cause of the Great Exhibition, 
which has been reproduced in America, France, 
and other parts—and yet neither medals were given 
me, nor honourable mention made of me in con¬ 
nection with it. Another proof to the world that 
neglect is generally the fate of Genius. Never¬ 
theless, justice will yet be done me 

“ In the good time coming.” 


I 


CHAPTER VII. 


Lives of great men all remind us, 

We can make our lives sublime. 

Longfellow. 

A true delineation of the smallest man and his scenes of 
pilgrimage through life, is capable of interesting the greatest 
man. Carlyle. 


A modern writer remarks, “ nothing astonishes 
men so much as common sense and plain dealing.” 
That must be on account of their rarity, like a 
certain kind of charity. It is as difficult toffind 
a man of common sense, as a four-leaved clover. 
1 have often wondered why people seemed aston¬ 
ished at me, but the above % remark solves the 
problem ; it’s my common sense and plain dealing, 
and fair dealing (a still rarer quality), that does 
it. In these respects I stand out in bold relief 
like a statue in a stereoscope, or poetically “.like 
a lone star in a tempestuous night.” 1 consider 
myself a standard of common sense, and were I a 
Prince Consort, 1 might be called The Imperial 
Standard i have always dealt in a plain, unos¬ 
tentatious way, and nobody can say that 1 ever 
cheated even to the extent of a lucifer match, or 
a corset lace. That’s what few of my brother 
merchants can say. Many of them no doubt live 
in fine houses, and fare sumptuously every day, 
and, in their own estimation, are the great and 
mighty of the earth, but in this mercantil# 




52 


PHANTASMAGORIA, the scene of fine gen- 
tlemanism dissolves, and is followed by prisons 
and suicides ; these again dissolve, and then we 
read in fierv characters, 

c. * 

as irisiis bestt smoCT* 

I am almost however inclined to believe with 
Otway, that 

“ Honesty is but a notion, 

Like wit, much talked of, not to be defined : 

He that pretends to most too, has least share in’t.” 

From the peer to the peasant, roguery seems the 
rule, honesty the exception. 

Another of the wonders of the world, is con¬ 
sistency. Where is the consistent man ? if J, 
like Diogenes, were to take a lanthem and go 
out in search of a consistent man, I would see, as 
I have seen, strange sights. I could give abund¬ 
ance of illustrations, but had better not, as every 
one would think 1 meant him in jiarticular, and 
that would be travelling on dangerous ground, as 
Paddy said when he walked on the ice. But in 
order to test whether there be a consistent man 
(of course myself excepted). 1 here offer to give 
a copy of this bobk, with the Author’s compli¬ 
ments” marked on it, to any person who, within 
a year from its publication, will prove that he has, 
even outwardly, acted in all things consistent^, 
for only three weeks ! and besides 1 will en¬ 
deavour to get his photograph, with a full chart 
of his phrenological developement hung up in the 
Museum of the Paisley Philosophical Society, as 
one of its greatest curiosities. 

Great men, like me, are finger posts on the 


53 


turnpike roads of time pointing “ Onwards.” 
They have always some predominant faculty by 
which they are distinguished. Some have a 
volubility of language, as if they had swallowed 
Dr Johnson’s Dictionary, with the Notes, or a 
dose of literary pills. Some, like the shepherd 
in “ Nodes Ambrosiance ,” can 66 dispute on any 
subject—sacred or profane.” My great distin ¬ 
guishing gift is memory. 1 have a first class one. 
This Autobiography has been written entirely 
from memory, without the assistance of a single 
note. I can, at pleasure, dig up from the deep 
recesses of the brain, things which have lain there 
undisturbed for years. For instance, how long 
is it since any one of my 20,14 subscribers has 
thought of the Paisley Bailies parading to the 
Kirk trcr.n the Council Chamber—the 1'own- 
officers, dressed with scarlet coats, knee’d breeks, 
and carrying glittering halberds in their hands, 
marching before, in all the pomp of power, and 
looking as if they felt themselves the connecting 
link between the Church and the State? You 
all recollect this now when J have touched the 
secret spring of your dull brains—and what 
thoughts does that resuscitated idea awaken? 
Those were the days when a sound state of things 
prevailed. The “ Tumble -the- >, alket” heterodoxy 
was then unknown in the kirk. The Bailie, with 
his big round gaucy belly, was a terror to evil 
doers—and although “ time changes a’ things,” I 
cannot yet believe in a bailie, like Cassius, with 
“ a lean and hungry look.” I don’t know how 
itis,but to my mind a scranky bailie is not natural. 
When the Reformed Council went into office, the 
belly “ with good capon lined,” was banished 


54 


from the judgment seat—and their successors in 
office were merely big with great ideas. Every¬ 
thing was to be reformed—and wonders per¬ 
formed. The tone of society was to rise like the 
hands of a thermometer from bad weather to fine. 
Cart was to be improved, and made a mighty 
river, on whose expansive waters ships of war 
were to float free of tonnage. The people looked 
astonished, and wondered why they had so long 
submitted to be misruled, but the knowing ones 
shook their heads and significantly said, “ wait a 
wee.” The reformed senators met, and one of 
their first resolutions was, “ that parading to the 
“ kirk be discontinued in all time coming, as being 
“ a direct interference' with the liberty of con- 
“ sci ence, and the right of private judgment.” One 
of them in supporting that resolution said, “verily 
“ friends, it is necessary in this enlightened age 
“ that these vain shews, these baubles and char¬ 
acteristics of barbarous times be rooted out; 
“ besides, the appearance of the red coats and the 
“ halberds awakens, in some minds, awkward 
“ reminiscences” Down went the red coats and 
the halberds, and from that hour Paisley as a 
corporation, lias stood still, notwithstanding the 
Proclamation painted at the cross, “ It is not per¬ 
mitted to stand on the Pavement,”—or if it has 
progressed, it has been backwards. 

The higher the tree, the more it has to en¬ 
counter the rude winds : and the greater the man, 
the more is he assailed by the blasts of the splene¬ 
tic, the waspish, and the malicious. 

“ Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, 

Thou shalt not escape calumny.” 


55 


I have felt the force of that truism also in my 
experience. Like Gulliver among the Lillipu¬ 
tians, I was a prominent mark for the poisoned 
arrows of “ small men.” I was ridiculed in 
print, and being resolved to teach my calum¬ 
niator a lesson, 1 sat down and wrote the follow¬ 
ing letter on the subject:—“ Love Villa, &c., &c. 
My Dear Sir,—Did you ever read of the Frog 
which tried to swell itself out to the proportions 
of an Ox ? if you did, you will, no doubt, remem 
ber the awful catastrophe which befel the am¬ 
bitious little Frog. You must have heard too 
the maxim “ they who livp in glass houses should 
not throw stones.” And from your classical 
knowledge you will be familiar with the story of 
Achilles, who when a very little boy, was dipped 
in the Styx, to make him invulnerable. You 
recollect that his mother held him by the heel 
when dipping him, which was not touched by the 
miraculous water, and the consequence was that 
he was vulnerable in that part. Can you make 
the application ? You are a young man, and may, 
like the Trojan hero, have a vulnerable part. 
Beware then how you write in future regarding 
public men like me, or in fact regarding anybody, 
lest you get your own corns tramped on.” 1 am, 
yours very truly.” I submitted the letter to a 
friend of mine for his opinion. He said it was 
too soft, and advised me not to send it but, at 
once, to raise an action of damages against my 
traducers, as a warning, and to teach them and 
others publicly that I was a man not to be trifled 
with. The action was raised, and the world 
knows the result. I vindicated my positior and 
my honour—proved that 1 was the “ Comyn man,” 
and at the same time settled the question after- 


56 


i 


wards raised in the Court of Session, in the cele¬ 
brated case against the Scotsman. 

So you see gentle reader, that my life has been 
a chequered one, and that I have not acquired 
my greatness without labour, annoyance, patience, 
and perseverance. Still, the man, 

u Who noble ends by noble means obtains, 

Or, failing, smiles in exile or in chains ; 

Like great Aurelius, let him reign or bleed, 

Like Socrates, that man is great indeed.” 

And now, having detained you perhaps too long 
with the various scenes of my pilgrimage, 1 must 
make my exit, feeling, like Pope, “how difficult it 
is to speak of ones self with decency,” and as the 
curtain gently falls, imagine yourself in front of 
the County Buildings, Paisley, while the splendid 
band of the Renfrewshire Militia, plays 

GOD SAVE THE QUEEN. 




1 ' 

(This Work is Copyright, and the Author reserves to 
himself the right of Translating and Publishing it on the 
Continent of Europe, and in America.) 












































































































































































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